


Angel Wings

by Cliophilyra



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff and Smut, Gift, Hurt/Comfort, Lena's Secret Santa, M/M, PWP, Pretty much no plot at all, Tumblr Destiel Secret Santa, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2849771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliophilyra/pseuds/Cliophilyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas night in the bunker and Dean gets an unexpected visit from an injured Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purpleandorangesheep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleandorangesheep/gifts).



> This was written for Lena's Destiel Secret Santa on Tumblr.  
> It's a gift for tumblr user purpleandorangesheep - I hope you like it my sweet! :-) x

ANGEL WINGS

Last night they went out and bought a Christmas tree.

Dean’s always liked Christmas and he figures now they’ve got somewhere a bit permanent it’s about time they started treating it like home. Sammy doesn’t necessarily agree, Dean knows home doesn’t mean the same thing to him but his brother goes along with it to humour him; another reason why Dean loves that kid.

So they did the whole bit – real tree, decorations, cartons of egg nog with way too much booze added, a fire crackling in one of the bunkers many art-deco fireplaces and Die Hard on DVD. “It’s the best Christmas movie ever,” Dean insists at Kevin’s skeptical look, “don’t let anyone tell you different.” It’s fucking awesome.

Dean guesses he fell asleep in front of the fire. He doesn’t know what wakes him, he just knows he wakes up feeling happier than he has for a long time.

The room is dark apart from the fire and the potentially seizure inducing flashing lights on the tree.

The tree looks pretty good, the decorations are a weird mixture of plastic baubles and cheap tinsel that they grabbed from a dollar store. Not classy but pretty damn festive – if he does say so himself. Dean figures more is definitely more when it comes to trimming a tree.

The room actually smells like Christmas, nutmeg and cinnamon and sugar from the eggnog mixed with the piney winter smell of tree sap and woodsmoke from the fireplace. Kevin and Sam are gone and it is completely silent aside from the pop and crackle of the fire.

One of the many things Dean is coming to love about this place is that he is beginning to not freak out if he wakes up and Sam’s not there – he thinks they might actually be safe here. He knows Sam’s not doing great now but he is equally sure that he will be ok. Dean genuinely believes Sam can do this shit.

Dean finds himself staring at the ridiculous angel on top of the tree – a big, stupid white thing with glittery wings that Sam chose because he thinks he’s funny.

Looking at it now Dean kind of agrees with him, it is funny. The knowledge that most angels are dicks in suits makes these saccharine versions seem like some kind of sick joke.

The flickering lights make the angel’s wings appear to move and he can’t help remembering the first time he met Cas and how his wings were totally not like these. Castiel was all dramatic entrance and power back then, storming into that barn daubed with useless symbols of protection and turning Dean’s life upside down. Everything changed in that moment and it’s been changing ever since.

When he thinks of Cas Dean’s mood dips a bit and he shivers. He has no real idea where the angel is. Is he safe? Is he lonely on the road with the angel tablet? Dean can’t deny he’s still hurt but these days his main thought is that he misses his friend.

It’s always been complicated with Cas. Well, it’s always seemed complicated in Dean’s head but lately he’s beginning to suspect it’s actually pretty simple, it was just realising how simple it is that’s complicated - he has no idea if that makes any sense at all.

So when he thinks about Cas now he just thinks, ‘I’m worried about him, what if he needs me? What if he’s in danger? What if he’s lonely?’ And if there is something more underneath that, something that makes his chest hurt and brings a lump to his throat? He pretends he doesn’t notice it. 

So he stares at the tree angel’s stupid sparkly wings, definitely not thinking about the angel he definitely doesn’t secretly think of as his. 

\----------------------------------------------

He’s just debating whether to open another carton of eggnog or cut out the middle man and just drink the fucking rum, when he is startled out of this reverie by a crash against the front door. 

He jumps up, grabs his gun and is at the top of the stairs before he’s had time to think consciously about any of it. Once he reaches the door he stops, holding the gun steady and listens.

This place is pretty well hidden – it looks like an electrical substation or something from the outside so it’s not like they get Jehovah’s Witnesses. Plus Jehovah’s Witnesses don’t tend to show up at 4 in the morning in the middle of winter – saving souls is great and all but not when you’re freezing your nuts off.

There hasn’t actually been a knock he realises as he listens; just a weird crash like something had fallen against the door. Maybe it was just trash? Some crap from the road blown against the door? He can’t hear anything now except his heart beating and he’s debating ignoring it when another weird noise comes from outside.

A panicked scraping, fluttering, scuffling sound – like a giant bird trapped in a small space.

Without thinking properly Dean yanks open the door, aiming the gun into the darkness and swirling snowflakes and for a split second he thinks there is no one there.

Then he looks down and sees him lying at his feet in the well of the steps that lead down from the road. 

Castiel.

He’s in a crumpled heap, his trench coat is muddy and torn and his face is bloody but what captures most of Dean’s immediate attention are the freaking great big wings surrounding him.

These aren’t like the shadows he’d seen in the barn all those years ago and they’re definitely not like the ones on the top of the tree, these are real. 100 per cent flesh and bone and feathers – a lot of feathers. They’re jet black and they’re huge.

Like, really fucking massive.

They fill up the whole of the stairwell even though they’re not close to being fully spread. One is partly stretched out at Cas’s side and the other curves up over his head and shoulders like he‘s trying to protect himself from something.

The snowflakes that are falling thickly now don’t seem to land on the bedraggled inky plumage. Ice is already catching in the angel’s hair and eyelashes but the flakes seem to pass through his wings as if they’re not really there. Which is weird ‘cause they look pretty fucking solid to Dean.

He wonders how he can even see them? Why aren’t his eyes boiling out of his head? At that point another part of his brain takes over - one that screams at him to Fix This! Help Him! He shakes his head and focuses on the increasingly snowy angel at his feet.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice is hoarse with sleep and drink and it cracks, betraying more panic than he wants to give away. He puts the safety on and stuffs the gun in the back of his jeans, annoyed with himself for sounding like a stupid kid. He clears his throat and tries again, “Cas?”

The angel shifts and groans, “Hello Dean,” he says weakly.

“What the hell happened man?” Dean asks.

“Naomi,” Cas replies and Dean feels a flicker of rage uncurl in his chest.

“What the fuck did she do to you?”

Rather than answering Cas starts to try and get up, pushing against the cold snow covered concrete with bloody hands.

Dean tightens his grip on Cas’s shoulder and helps him stand, leaving two red hand prints in the snow. The thought of the matching red hand print that once adorned his shoulder comes to his mind unbidden and he swallows hard. Then all of the angel’s weight is on him and he tries to tamp down his fear as he wraps his arm around Cas’s waist and manhandles him back into the bunker.

Cas’s wings are flapping and twitching, seeming to have with a mind of their own. As solid as they look to Dean, they don’t appear to be interested in obeying the laws of physics, passing straight though anything in their way.

As he stares at them nervously Dean realises that one is moving less than the other, hanging limp and awkward. Then he notices the massive gash in the top of the wing. Some of the long flight feathers seem to be missing and bright red blood drips down the others, pooling at their feet on the tiled floor of the landing.

The fear he’s been trying to ignore rises up again and Dean reaches out, pulling Cas’s face around to look at him. “Cas?” he asks urgently, the angel’s eyes open slightly, eyelids flutter but he doesn’t seem to be able to focus. 

Dean has no idea where to start, he’s never dealt with wings before.

He drags Cas down the stairs and dumps him unceremoniously on the couch where he’d been sleeping. Cas’s head lolls forward and Dean stands for a moment breathing hard, taking stock. “Cas, wait here I’m gonna grab some stuff ok?” He tells him, part of him thinking, ‘Where is he gonna go idiot?’ But you never can tell with angels.

\---------------------------------------------

Dean makes his way quickly to the bathroom, grabs a random armful of towels, wetting one of them, and the DIY wound sewing kit. He gets back half expecting Cas to have mojoed out of there but there he is, sitting more upright and blinking, looking slightly better but still white as a sheet. He turns when Dean comes into the room, “I’m sorry Dean,” he says, his voice hoarse and quiet.

“What for dude?” Dean replies, confused.

Cas blinks again and looks over his shoulder at the trail of blood that marks his path from the door.

Dean huffs a laugh, “Dude, that ain’t the worst this place has seen. Why do you think we don’t have carpet,” he grins but as he notices just how much of the angel’s blood marks the tiles he can’t help the sick worry that crawls over him. 

He walks over and sits down next to Cas on the couch. He looks the state of Cas’s clothes, the blood and grime that cover his coat and the blood that continues to run down his back from the wound. “You’re gonna have to take that off dude,” Dean says, Cas looks confused. “Your coat Cas, you need to take it off. Shirt too, it’s all covered in gore man.”

Cas turns his massive blue eyes on him and Dean can’t help the intense wave of protectiveness washes over him and he finds himself touching the angel’s face again, running his thumb softly over the bruise under his eye.

“We need to get you cleaned up buddy,” he says quietly with an encouraging smile and Cas nods, his eyes widening as he seems to try to watch Dean’s hand on his cheek. When Dean notices what he’s doing he pulls his hand back like it’s been burnt, looking down to hide his eyes. This is not the time for…whatever this is.

Carefully, with Dean’s help Cas manages to get out of his trench coat and his shirt. Dean very much does not watch the muscles in the angels back and shoulders, how they move when his wings move, how his stomach is flatter and his arms stronger than he somehow expected, how his skin looks so touchable and smooth even with sticky blood staining it slightly pink.

“Um, can’t you heal this Cas?” Dean asks, aware that his voice has dropped a couple of octaves to cover his embarrassment, “Mojo not working?”

Cas sighs, “It was an angel blade,” he says as if that explains it all, “It will heal but it will take time.”

Dean nods and presses the wet towel to Cas’s split lip, the angel hisses and draws back. Dean frowns, “Hey man, it’s ok. I’ll be done in a minute.”

“I’m sorry Dean, I am unused to feeling pain.”

Having wiped most of the blood off Cas’s face Dean sits back and studies the bloody, damaged wing drooping at his side. He reaches out hesitantly, his heart is hammering in his chest and he knows it’s more than just concern for Cas.

“Can I…?” he starts.

Cas’s eyes widen and his mouth opens slightly in surprise. “You…you can see them?” He asks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

Dean frowns and nods, running his tongue over suddenly parched lips. “Um yeah…should I…not?” He replies.

Cas raises his eyebrows, “I did not expect…” he trails off looking unsure.

“So how come m’not on fire?” Dean asks with a nervous laugh.

Cas shrugs and Dean finds himself wondering when he started to make such human gestures. Surely he should have noticed before? Is that a good sign or a bad sign?

“I have never actually attempted to show you my real wings Dean, perhaps you have always been capable of seeing them? I believe they’re only visible now because my grace is too depleted to keep them hidden.”

Dean stares at the restlessly moving midnight feathers that surround him. The light from the dying fire catches them, revealing a rainbow of colours gliding and shifting over the surface.

Dean finds his hand reaching out again and has to clench his fist tightly to stop his fingers from burying themselves in that soft darkness. His hand tingles with the effort of control, fingernails digging tiny half-moons into his palms. He finds he is holding his breath for some reason.

Cas looks at him, enormous blue eyes slightly dazed and nods carefully. Dean takes a deep breath and holds the towel to the place where blood still oozes through the feathers. He is determined to keep this strictly business. Don't stroke him! What the hell is wrong with you?

Cas gasps faintly as Dean wraps the towel around the wound. Blood immediately begins to seep through the fluffy white fibres, staining his fingers. He tries to be gentle, blotting softly, wiping away blood where it streaks the glossy black, clumping the edges of feathers and sticking them together.

Cas’s breath stutters and he screws up his eyes as Dean carries on trying to soak up the worst of the gore and see the wound below. Slowly Dean tries to part wet feathers with bloody fingers, “Hey Cas, it’s ok buddy.” He finds himself whispering like Cas is an animal he is trying not to spook rather than a badass angel who could kick his ass into next week.

When the cut is revealed it’s Dean who flinches at the wide deep gash across the top of the wing. Cas just watches him silently, head on one side.

Dean reaches for the first aid kit and takes out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. He holds it up for Cas to see, “This is gonna sting like a son of a bitch but it’ll help. I’m sorry man.”

Cas nods but Dean sees the line of his shoulders tense and his other wing flick nervously behind his back.

He uncaps the bottle and, holding the towel underneath, pours most of the contents over the wound. As the first drops land Cas hisses and bites down on his lip, soft pink turns white as his teeth dig in.

As he finishes pouring Dean realises that his other hand is on Cas’s thigh, fingers gripping into his flesh as if he were the one in pain. He coughs and pulls away. “Sorry man,” he says, his voice rough again.

Cas opens his eyes and looks straight at Dean, in that weird way he has that makes Dean feel like Cas can see into his soul but also that he finds Dean completely unfathomable.

Dean shifts uncomfortably, looks away and sets about getting the rest of the home made suture kit ready. He threads the new needle, avoiding Cas’s gaze, which he is sure he can feel burning into the side of his face.

He holds up the needle, “This is gonna hurt too,” he says before an idea comes to him and he reaches for the half empty bottle of rum and passes it to Cas. “Here, chug some of that.”

Cas takes it, looking at the bottle like it’s about to bite him, “Will this help?”

Dean raises an eyebrow and shrugs, “No idea man. If you were human I’d say definitely. It used to take a whole fucking store to get you wasted but who knows now? Can’t hurt though.”

Cas contemplates the dark brown liquor for a moment then seems to reach a conclusion and raises the bottle to his lips.

Dean is suddenly hypnotised by the sight of Cas’s plush, wind bitten lips wrapped around the neck of the bottle, the dark liquid that rushes to meet his mouth, his throat working as he swallows. Dean’s own throat and mouth are completely dry, he tries to swallow and coughs.

Cas removes the now empty bottle from his mouth and quirks an eyebrow at him. “Are you alright Dean?” 

Dean nods, not trusting his voice and wonders what the hell is going on with him?

“You seem distracted,” Cas states and Dean almost laughs at that, yeah that’s one word for it.

“S’ok man,” Dean replies licking his parched lips nervously, “I’m just a bit…out of my depth here. Wings aren’t really my area.” 

“You are doing well.” Cas says with a smile, twisting to try and see over his own shoulder, “I think the bleeding has stopped.”

Dean lifts the wet towel away from the wound. The feathers are still sticky with blood but it does seem to have stopped. As he puts the towel down he runs his hand down the edge of the wing without thinking. He wonders at the feel of it, soft and hard at the same time. The feathers are warm and smooth where they are not damaged but underneath, the wings are all hard muscle and bone. Dean suddenly thinks he appreciates the power it takes to lift something the size of a man off the ground. In his admiration he presses curious fingers into the flesh and downy feathers until suddenly Cas breathes in sharply.

Dean immediately jerks his hand away, his quiet fascination shattered, “Shit, sorry Cas! I wasn’t thinking.” He looks over at the angel but his expression is not the one he expects to see.

Cas’s eyes are half closed, thin slivers of brilliant cobalt beneath long lashes. His mouth is open slightly and his breathing is shallow and ragged. Panic surges in Dean and he grabs Cas’s face in both hands. “Cas! What’s wrong?” Cas’s opens his eyes and looks at Dean intently with pupils blown so wide the blue is only the thinnest halo glowing around the black.

Dean knows that look, he's seen it plenty of times but he never thought he'd see it in those eyes: Lust.

“I..” Cas starts, “I’m sorry I did not expect…The sensation is…quite intense.” He swallows thickly, trying to pull himself together.

Dean frowns. He is still not sure he understands 100% what is happening here but he has an idea. At least he thinks he does. He bites his lip, taking in Cas’s blissed out expression.

So, are you gonna take that leap? He asks himself. What if you’re wrong? You have a perfect opportunity to fuck everything up here.

But…what if you’re right?

He reaches out tentatively and smoothes a hand slowly and firmly down the curve of the angel’s wing. 

Another breathless sigh escapes Cas’s lips and his eyes close again. He murmurs under his breath something that sounds very much like Dean’s name.

Dean smiles and pushes his fingers more firmly into the feathers then slides them down the longer primaries which trail to the ground at his side. Castiel shudders and lets out a small groan.

“Dean…” he says shakily, “you really have to stop that.”

Dean looks up at him, embarrassment flooding over him, “I.. shit sorry Cas. I thought…” he trails off, “I thought you liked it.” He says quietly.

Cas’s hands come up suddenly, grabbing each side of Deans face. His fingertips grip the sensitive skin behind Dean’s ears and his thumbs press into his cheekbones. Cas’s pupils are completely blown and he stares at Dean with a ferocity that makes the hunter briefly afraid that he is about to be smited – smote? Smitten? Dean almost smiles at that, one of those things is not like the others.

“I do like it Dean. A lot. I think if you understood how much I like it you would not wish to do it.” Cas says.

Dean swallows hard, he watches the azure of Cas’s eyes glow faintly. He feels a slight wetness on his face from the mixture of melted snow and blood on Cas’s hands and he watches pink lips that are dry and cracked but also incredibly inviting and incredibly close and he knows this is it. 

Now or never.

Dean leans forward just a fraction and suddenly their lips are touching. Cas’s lips are softer and warmer than he imagined and this just feels right even if he can’t quite believe it’s actually happening. Then Cas makes a surprised sound, his grip on the sides of Dean’s head loosens for a second and Dean is immediately terrified that he has got it all horribly wrong. He is just beginning to pull back, to panic and really give in to the self-loathing that is never too far under his surface, when Cas’s long fingers move again, flexing and tightening around Dean’s jawline. Then Cas is pushing the two of them together, his lips almost bruising, licking into Dean’s mouth, tongue sliding against Dean’s, breath hot and shallow.

Dean makes a surprised squeak that he will never admit to as long as he lives, closes his eyes and wraps his arms around the angels broad back. He drags his fingers through the feathers at the point where Cas’s wings emerge from his shoulder-blades and the angel whines like some kind of animal and holy fuck that’s hot!

Cas moves his mouth away from Dean’s, the brief disappointment that stirs at the loss soon disappears as Cas’s lips move down across his jawline, mouthing at his neck and tasting warm, salt, soft skin. Dean groans his approval and his head drops back, exposing more of his throat to Cas’s soft mouth.

Dean moves a hand from the angel’s wing and buries it in Cas’s dark hair raking short nails over his scalp, dragging another deep moan from the angel’s throat.

“Dean!” Cas groans imploring, “I need…oohhh,” he sighs, licking and nipping at the skin of Dean’s throat and shoulder, breath ragged and hot against his skin.

Dean moves back to the wings he can’t keep his hands off of, plunging his fingers into the warmth, feeling the thick downy softness slide over his knuckles, digging his nails lightly into the flesh beneath the feathers. “What do you need angel?” he asks.

Cas makes a harsh guttural sound. “You,” he grits out between clenched teeth, electric sensations shooting down his spine at Dean’s touch. “I need you.”

Dean runs his hands over the angel’s back, smoothing over muscle and feathers and leans back up to claim Cas’s mouth again.

“You’ve got me, I’m pretty sure you’ve always had me Cas,” he says against his lips.

Cas sighs again, a smile curls the edges of his lips and he bites at Dean’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. Dean feels like all the blood in his body shoots south, he feels light headed and he’s really fucking hard.

Cas’s hand strays to the curve of Dean’s ass and Dean blinks in surprise then grins and grabs Cas, pulling him over to sit in his lap. Dean grasps the angel’s thighs and runs his hands up to his ass, feeling tight muscle moving under cheap black suit pants. Cas’s ass is pretty fucking awesome, he’s never really noticed before what with the stupid trench coat.

Cas is beginning to get more demanding, pulling at Dean’s shirt, pushing it back off his shoulders, pinning his arms by his sides, pushing up his t-shirt and running hot hands over him like he doesn’t know where to start. He makes a noise of impatient frustration deep in his throat that goes straight to Dean’s cock. Dean pushes him back a bit and, with some very undignified wriggling, manages to lose the shirt and t-shirt.

Cas smiles like the cat that got the cream and leans down to kiss across Dean’s clavicle and chest, dipping his tongue into the hollow of Dean's throat and up over his Adam's apple. His tongue flicks almost experimentally over a nipple, earning a deep groan, Dean feels like his skin is alight, like Cas tongue leaves trails of fire in it's wake. Cas runs his fingers reverently over the muscles of his hunters arms then sits back and looks at Dean with suddenly clear eyes and a serious expression, “You are very beautiful Dean.” He says, as if he’s expounding some deep, profound truth. Dean just snorts his disbelief and strokes his fingers along Cas’s wings again, hoping to distract him.

Cas gasps and grinds down into Dean’s lap, Dean grips his hips tighter, breathing in sharply as he feels the hot length of Cas’s cock through the thin fabric as it pushes against his own erection.

“Dean why don’t you believe me?” Cas says in his ear, “The first moment I saw you I knew you were the one. Amongst all that horror, surrounded by evil, drenched in blood your soul was still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I knew I would be yours forever. I know you think of me as your angel and you are right, I am for you.” His hot breath ghosts over Dean’s neck, tickling his ear and making him gasp. Dean thinks that gravel rough voice and those words in his ear are nearly enough to make him come right there without a single touch.

There is no way he can explain, he can’t express himself the way Cas can. He wants to tell him, to make him understand what he means, why he needs Cas, why he’ll always need him and what he really means when he says ‘I need you.’

“Cas…I wanted this…you…so long Cas,” any eloquence he might have possessed is out the window it seems. All Dean wants is to feel his angel’s skin against his own, to touch him, see him. For now he hopes he can make him understand what he means without words.

Cas seems to get the idea as he is suddenly fumbling with the buttons of Dean’s jeans and reaching inside. The feeling of long fingers skimming over his cock as it strains against the rough fabric takes Dean’s breath away. He crushes their mouths together again, pushing his tongue into the hot wetness of Cas’s mouth while he lifts himself up slightly, pushing his jeans and underwear down, reaching for Cas’s fly and pulling at the zip impatiently. 

Cas moans into his mouth and rather than helping Dean with his clothes, he blinks and suddenly there are no clothes. Dean feels his smile against his lips, the small effort doesn’t seem to have affected his recharging grace and now they are both completely naked.

Cas is straddling Dean’s lap and he feels the miles of hot, solid flesh under his hands with a kind of wonder, skimming his fingers over every inch he can reach.

Dean slides his hands up Cas’s back feeling the sweat that's beading on his skin slide under his palms, he scratches roughly at the base of his wings. They flare out behind him as Cas’s head drops back and he lets out a deep moan, pushing himself down against Dean again.

Dean’s cock slides in the hot space behind Cas’s balls and he feels like he’s going to fucking lose it any minute. “Oh fuck Cas,” he gasps.

Cas smiles down at him, “Yes,” he replies.

Dean raises an eyebrow, does he mean….?

“Yes.”

Oh.

Well fuck.

Dean looks into open, trusting blue eyes and surges up again to claim kiss bruised and bitten lips, his hands curving to cup the angel’s jaw and up into tangled black hair.

He can’t really believe he is going to do this. Are they going to do this? Isn’t this kind of like going from 0 to 100 in 2 seconds? He’s never really done this before…well not with a dude anyway…but it’s not like he’s never thought about it before. A lot.

“Are you sure?” He whispers against the angel’s neck.

Cas pulls Dean’s head up to look into his eyes and nods, “I want to feel you inside me Dean,” he says and Dean groans because fuck, angels should not be saying shit like that. Except this one should, all the time please.

Suddenly he’s hit by a realisation, “Shit! We don’t have any….um..stuff?” he says, like the mature adult he is. Cas smiles and suddenly there is a bottle of lube in his hand.

“Huh, neat trick.” Dean laughs, “what about..you know…condoms?”

“I’m an angel Dean," Cas says in a tone that heavily implies that Dean is an idiot. "It is impossible for me to get sick or to carry any illness that I could give to you.”

“Oh…ok then,” Dean takes the bottle from Cas’s hand.

He runs his hands up Cas’s wings again, enjoying the reactions he can wring from the angel, the open mouth, panting breaths, lust heavy eyes and wrecked, broken sounds in that deep voice. Then Cas is moving in his lap, practically writhing and God he wants this, he might not deserve it but if he can have only one thing for himself can it be this? 

He squeezes a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and drops a hand to Cas’s ass, slowly drawing a finger down to his tight hole. He circles lightly with the tip of one finger, pressing gently until Cas begins to moan and push back against his finger. “It’s alright Dean, please, you can’t hurt me.”

Dean cards his other hand through the angel’s feathers again, “I know,” he replies pressing his lips to Cas’s neck, sucking gently at delicate skin, “but I want to do this properly, I want to make it good for you Cas.”

Cas keens as Dean pushes his finger inside him and the look on his face is something Dean wants to see every day.

“Oh Dean!” Cas exclaims, “I really need you to…oh…yes…now Dean,”

Dean pushes a second finger in, which seems so easy that he gets the feeling Cas’s mojo is helping this along, “Impatient, angel?” he whispers in Cas’s ear. In response Cas pushes back against his hand and suddenly he feels the tips of his fingers brush over the angel’s prostate. Cas lets out a loud moan and fucks back onto his fingers again. He grabs Dean’s cock, moving his hand slowly up to the head, smearing the precome that is dripping down Dean’s length.

“Oh God Cas!” Dean cries out, feeling the roughness of the angel’s hands moving over him and the delicious friction of his skin.

Cas bares down on his fingers again, burying him up to his knuckles as he adds a third finger and begins to move them, stretching gently. “I need you Dean, I need you inside me now,” Cas almost commands, licking his way up Dean’s throat again, sucking tiny bruises over tendons and veins, laving his tongue over the marks he has already left.

Dean can’t last much longer, he wants to, he wants to do this slow, take their time but he figures there might be a chance for that later and right now they have years to make up for and he just Wants.

Dean removes his fingers with a obscene slick sound and Cas sighs at the loss, then Dean takes hold of his own cock, sliding more lube over his skin and holding himself steady as, with a loud breathless cry, Cas pushes down until Dean’s is fully inside him in one movement.

They are still for a moment. Dean is trying really hard not to come straight away. Cas feels amazing, hot and slick and so tight, like nothing he’s ever felt before. He desperately wants to move but also desperately doesn’t want to come yet.

Cas’s eyes are closed and he’s biting his bottom lip and his hands are in Dean’s hair and his wings are stretched out so far behind him they seem to fill the whole room with midnight blue. Dean thinks he has never seen something so beautiful, how can this creature possibly think he is beautiful? He kisses Cas again, licking over the red mark where he had bitten into his lip.

“Move Dean,” Cas says and Dean really doesn’t need telling twice. He grips Cas’s hips and begins to roll his own hips slowly, drawing out the movement, still not able to believe the tightness and heat of Cas’s body.

Cas cries out at the movement and Dean stills, afraid. “Are you ok babe?” he asks.

Cas nods. “Yes Dean, please don’t stop. That feels…incredible.”

Dean smiles at that and begins to move again, little harder this time, altering the angle of his thrusts until Cas sobbed cry tells him he’s hit the spot.

Dean feels his orgasm creeping up on him, heat pooling in his belly, sweat running down his back and he knows he won’t last long. “Fuck Cas, I’m so close,” he pants. He reaches for Cas’s cock and begins to slide his hand over the hot hard flesh.

Cas fucking growls and pushes forward into Dean’s hand, then back onto his cock and it barely seems like seconds before he breathes out, “Oh! Dean, I think I…”

Dean grasps him tighter and moves his other hand back up to the angel’s wing. “Mmm…god yes..come on Cas, let go I’ve got you.” he murmurs. He clenches his fist in the soft feathers at the base of a wing as he thrusts up into Cas, hitting his prostate again. 

Cas cries out, wings flaring and spreading to their fullest span behind him, the tips disappearing into the walls and he comes in thick spurts over Dean’s hand and stomach. The sight of his angel coming completely undone pulls Dean right over the edge after him and he yells Cas’s name, face buried in his shoulder as he comes inside him.

Cas flops forward onto Dean’s chest, ignoring the sticky mess between them. There is silence for a few moments.

“Wow.” Dean can’t think of anything else to say, his brain is currently offline.

After a few more moments Cas lifts himself slowly off of Dean and moves to his side and with a blink, mojo’s them clean.

Cas lifts his head to look at Dean. “Was that…good?” he asks quietly.

“That was fucking amazing Cas." Dean replies looking down into huge blue eyes and really fucking gorgeous sex hair.

“I have wanted to do that for a long time,” Cas says shyly.

Dean laughs. “Me too, I hope it was…did it live up to expectations?”

“Absolutely, I would very much like to do that again.”

“Fucking A, we are definitely doing that again. Not right this minute though. I need to at least wait until I can feel my legs again.”

Cas nods against his chest and Dean wraps his arms around him, stroking his fingers very lightly over the curve of his wing again.

Cas smiles. “I think I’m healed,” he says glancing at the place where the wound was. All there is now is a gap where new feathers haven’t grown yet but the skin below is clear and whole. “You clearly have healing properties,” Cas says.

Dean laughs. “Well that was definitely way more fun than a fifth of Rum and a darning needle,” he replies.

Cas frowns. “Is that a compliment? Wouldn’t most things be more fun than that?”

Dean squeezes his arms tighter around Cas. “Not that much more fun though,” he says with a grin. He looks up at the clock, it’s gone 4am.

“Merry Christmas Cas." he whispers into his angel’s hair.

“Merry Christmas Dean.”


End file.
